


Too Damn Familiar

by TheeWrites_TF2



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blame Spy, Canon-Typical Violence, I'm just a mess in this fic, Mild Language, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Self-Insert, Stress Relief, jerk, weird dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 02:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13180692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheeWrites_TF2/pseuds/TheeWrites_TF2
Summary: It's 3 Am. TheeWrites has a weird dream. Wakes up a while later, and Is inspired to write about it.This is that dream. And yes, it was weird as hell.





	Too Damn Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> I've never had a completely realistic dream, but early this morning, I had one that not only felt realistic, but sent me into a bout of panic for a solid five minutes. Of course, my first instinct wasn't 'Try to go back to sleep,' because, OF COURSE NOT.
> 
> It was the predictable, inevitable, 'Yo, write this shit down.'
> 
> And I did. And here it is, the literary version of a 3 AM nightmare, if you can call it that. 
> 
> I'm really tired, maybe i'll take a nap now. Enjoy.

**[Link to the original post](https://theewrites-tf2.tumblr.com/post/169035153896/huddahuddahuh-theewrites-tf2) **

* * *

Dust is kicking up in the air, the particles making the world look hazy to the eyes. The sun is high, boiling the occupants of the earth below and the sky above is a bright, portrait-perfect blue. It would be peaceful, if not for the gunfire around the corner, and the fact that I can't seem to stop stumbling in the loose sand-like ground around me. I'm usually not so clumsy, but I'm shaking like crazy, and my worn sneakers I bought a year ago aren't exactly perfect for wading through hot sand.

God, I hope there isn't any scorpions or other creepy-crawlers in the dust, or i’m going into a full blown panic attack.

Another blast and screech sound from inside the building i'm leaning against, and I scrabble away quickly, hand held against my mouth to keep myself from screaming or cussing too loudly. It doesn't work to well, because I still hear a muffled shriek and barely resist the urge to slap myself out of it.

‘ _Goddammit Faith, you are a grown-ass woman… Pull it together!_ ’ I snapped at myself, and stood, bracing myself and trying to man myself up go see what the hell was going on…

Then the earth-shattering boom sounded from the within the building, and I dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Apparent that both my shoes and clothes would never be completely vacant of the sand that I coated them,  I squeeze my eyes shut, taking a deep breath through my nose, before slowly maneuvering my body into a crawling position. After a quick psyche-session, I was cautiously making my way along the backside of the aging wooden building, the blue paint fading away from the sun's harsh lights. Freezing when I hear an obnoxious laugh and the sounds of gunfire.

“Yea’, lookie tha’, ain't so tough are ya?!” A thick accented voice sounded from just within the thin-walled building, and it sounded strangely, weirdly familiar. I paused and leaned against the building, listening to the jeering for a moment, latching onto this small fraction of familiarity in an unfamiliar place.

“...What the hell, is that…” I said in disbelief, then flinched away as those taunts turned into the unmistakable sound of death-by-fire-screaming. I quickly snatched my body away as the pained screeching faded, my eyes blow wide as I tried to comprehend what was going _on_.

‘Okay… Sand. Figure out where you are, there’s SAND,’ I reasoned, looking around the terrain. To my left, a tall chain fence resided, no apparent exit on this side, and on the right was the faded-blue building. ‘And there is sand…’ Why all thoughts just went back to the sand, who knows.

I didn’t exactly trust the fence NOT to be electrocuted or something weird, so I found myself leaning heavily against the wall of the blue building, ignoring the gunfire in favor of focusing on my breathing. “Okay,” I muttered drily, quite literally as my throat was absolutely parched. “What the fuck to do, what the fuck to do, what thE FUCK-!” I screeched as I found myself tackled by air and a briefcase.

_I know, I was shocked too._

The mass of air, it’s blue briefcase and I rolled for a good few feet after the air slammed into me full-force. Apparently just as shocked as I was, for it let out a rather indignant squeak as we slammed back into the damn sand once again, the sand I was apparently destined to remain stuck in. By the time my head bounced off the ground with a groan and a brief flash of pain, my unseen assailant was already back on its feet and snatching back the blue painted, white striped briefcase that was over-stuffed with papers… A quick flash of familiarity swooped through me, though I couldn’t latch onto it quick enough, as the air in front of me wavered and _coloured_ and…

A gun. “ _Shit._ ” I hissed, launched up and holding my hands up in a protective act eyes blown wide, as I scrambled back. “o-Okay, look, I-I just…” A low, mocking, once again EXTREMELY familiar chuckle cut through my panicked speech like a dagger. “Of all zhe forms you choose, ZHAT is the form you thought could stop me?” The amusement was dark, and the accent was too familiar to dismiss, so I found myself lowering my arms.

‘...Faith, what the hell,’ I thought, blinking once, twice. The red-balaclava clad man before me tilted his head slightly, smirk growing. “I will admit, the dumbfounded look is admirable.” I sputtered, mind clawing to catch up to this apparent reality, “I-...u-uh, I’m sorry…?”

“Zhe AMERICAN accent is also a nice touch, I give you credit.”

“Um…T-that’s my…”

“Hm, and an interesting choice of a feminine form. Too young to be playing around a faux-battlefield, zhough.”

“... I-i wasn’t… Wh-what is-”

Rather suddenly, I found a glove hand snatching my collar to drag me forward, and soon felt cool metal on my brow, deeply clashing in temperature with the hot, burning desert around us. Any words I had died on my lips, and I found myself locked on those ice-cold grey-blue eyes that were cold and amused as the freezing press of the barrel pressed agaiasnt my skin.

“Perhaps in the five minute trip, _mon ami,_ ” He breathed quietly, the smirk as cold as the gun and his eyes. “Pick a better form to disguise yourself as, hm?” I found my voive top late.

“W-wait, i’m not-!”

 

_**Click** _

* * *

 

 

The next sensation I felt, was a hand closing around my face, short and thought-stressed chewed nails digging into the skin on my face. I also heard muffled screaming, but it took me a full few beats for me to come to the realization that that was MY hand.

And my screaming.

I snapped my eyes open to blackness, hand braced against my mouth as I listened for any panicked words from my neighbors, or worst, my parents. After a moment, when I detected nothing of the sort, I found myself kicking furiously at the comforter and blankets that coated me, scrambling out of my bed. I probably ran into at least two huge furnishments  in my room, including knocking down a full laundry basket, but I somehow found my way to my lamp and full-length mirror.

I leaned my head against the cool reflective glass as my shaky hand found the switch, closing my eyes as light exploded into the room. Months of relaxation tactics from pre-show jitters came flooding into my head, and I calmed my breathing, my heart-rate slowing to a much more reasonable rate. I opened my eyes and moved back from the mirror to snatched up my IPod, shuffling to some 80’s song at full-volume, ignoring ungodly hour of morning it was.

I reclined back onto my bed, massaging my temples as the decades-old beats and notes flooded my system, and I found my thoughts betraying me and drifting back to… whatever the hell THAT was.

Dream was too childish, and nightmare was just as juvenile. It was just… too detailed, too REAL to just be dismissed with such words. I ran my knuckles over my bed sheet, half-expecting the rough, grainy feel of boiling sand under my skin. My other hand slowly drifted to just above my brow, and I could practically still feel the burning ice of a gun against my skin.

‘ _...That was fucked up, whatever it was._ ’ I concluded as the drawn-out ending of whatever I was blasting in my headphones came to a conclusion, and my heart was at a calm, natural rate. I tossed it onto my nightstand, reclining back against the bed as my thoughts kept running over each and every detail of THAT… I glanced to the side, eyes zeroing in on the soft aquamarine blinking from my phone. I briefly considered sleep, then concluded that was as impossible as stopping my thoughts on my not-dream/nightmare and snatched up my phone, finding myself typing quietly,

 _‘Okay, that was a fucking intense dream I just had’_ I found myself typing out, then paused, eyes darting up to my infamous icon. It was humorous when I first picked it, and I can remember joking with my friend about it for a solid five minutes before our English professor started shooting us glares… But now, I just had the unexplainable urge to give the slightly-offended icon the bird. After a moment of this, the inevitable, and semi-dreaded flash of inspiration stuck full force. I quickly scroll back to my draft box, and grinned slightly as my fingers flew over the keyboard, once again ignoring the time in order to keep a hold of my sanity.

 _'Holy crap I think I have a new fanfic idea I’m gonna start writing it later…_ ’

**Author's Note:**

> (Sidenote: Faith is not my real name, but I pulled a random, yet slightly relatiable-to-my-real-name pen-name for myself. I don't know, just felt the need to clarify)


End file.
